Of Dungeons and Dragons
by Thalia Marie Grace
Summary: The best thing about being a princess is that nobody can disrespect you. Well, I mean, they can, but then they'd get their heads sliced off or their asses thrown in jail. And the worst thing about being a princess is the freaking corsets. I mean, come on—it's the fifteenth century. Aren't things supposed to be modernizing? AU.
1. of husbands and balls

**Author's Note: Yet again, I have arrived with a Clace story. This one is going to be a hopefully short one, with super-long chapters and less frequent updates, so just bear with me. It'll hopefully be filled with humour (because we're back to first-person point of view) and romance and adventure and magic and all that lovely jazz.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments or anything you'd recognise inside of this story.**

**NOTE: Although this takes place in the 15****th**** century, the language is completely modern. And completely AU. And since I'm not exactly a genius on Europe at all, none of the historic events will end up taking place in this story. Also, I know that the UK is only Great Britain and Northern Ireland, but for the sake of the story, the United Kingdom is going to be all of Ireland, Northern Ireland, plus Great Britain. Oh, and there's magic in this one, too. **

* * *

**Chapter One—Clary**

The best thing about being a princess is that nobody can disrespect you. Well, I mean, they can, but then they'd get their heads sliced off or their asses thrown in jail.

And the worst thing about being a princess is the freaking corsets. I mean, come _on_—it's the fifteenth century. Aren't things supposed to be modernizing?

I guess not.

"Hold _still!" _hisses my mother, Jocelyn, as she yanks on the corset.

"How can I hold still when you're squeezing my organs out from my mouth?" I hiss back, wheezing as the corset tightens on my torso. "What's even the _point _of these stupid things?"

"They're to make you look like a lady, Clarissa." she reprimands me, and by the lack of tightening on my body I can tell that she is lacing up the corset. "And no offense, dear, but you need the extra help."

"Gee, thanks, Mother," I mumble, fidgeting a bit.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah."

Thanks to my unnatural short height, I have an absolute lack of curves everywhere. The only thing that distinguishes me like a girl is my bright red hair that is completely unruly and out-of-style in our kingdom. It really sucks sometimes, because it's the hardest thing to tame in the morning and it's normally up or in a braid, which makes my head hurt.

"It's just a party." I watch as my mother grabs a brush and glides it through my hair. "What makes this one so special?"

She's surprisingly silent as she continues to brush my hair. This isn't good; whenever Mother is silent it means something bad. Or, at least, not good for me.

"Mother?" I glance at her reflection in the mirror. "What is it?"

She takes a deep breath and blurts out the truth. "Your father has found you a husband."

"He _what?" _my voice rises loudly, causing my mother to jump and chastise me with a sharp, "Clarissa!"

"Clary." I remind her. It was a nickname my older brother Jonathan gave me when he and I were young. "And I'm sorry, Mother—I just—_a husband?"_

"You're of age." Mother reminds me, taking a brush to my curls once again. "Actually, you've been of age for almost two years. Your father wanted to make sure he found you a husband before your eighteenth birthday."

"And now he's finally found one who would settle for me." I say in fake-enthusiasm. "How absolutely lovely. What's he getting for this? Are we avoiding a war? Getting riches? What?"

"Your father thinks that this marriage will unite Ireland with Great Britain." Mother sets the brush down and begins to braid my hair. "He and your soon-to-be father-in-law will name the new united country the United Kingdom."

"Wow." I smile in the mirror at her, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What a clever name."

My mother lightly slaps my arm, but she smiles. "I know you don't want to do this, but it's for the best. Jonathan married a young girl from the village—which we have no qualms about, of course—but your father wants you to unite a kingdom with ours before he steps down from the throne."

"I know." I sigh heavily, watching her finish my braid. "And I do want to make him happy."

"Who knows, my dear?" Mother pats my shoulder. "Maybe you'll fall in love with him the way I did with your father. True love does _not _always come naturally. Sometimes it needs a little push."

It's not what I want. But then again, when would I ever get what I want in this kingdom? I smile at the reflection of my mother and then I stand, facing her. "Then let's get ready for this party." I say.

* * *

"Father will step down from the throne the day you marry." Jonathan informs me, taking my hand as he leads me down the hallways toward the ballroom with the guests inside. "He cannot change the date now. If we can only postpone the wedding for one day, little sister, we can get you out of this marriage."

In my entire life, my brother has been the only one solely there for me. We played in the gardens for years together—and when he finally became of age, he still included me in everything he did. Even when he met his wife Mary, he was more than willing to include me in most outings that they did together. Mary's a doll; she's my age, and we've gotten along quite well since Jonathan met her. I was so happy when they married.

"Thank you, Jon," I say, smiling widely at him. "It means a lot to me."

"Of course, Clary."

Another thing about my brother is that he's the only one who doesn't refuse to call me Clary. Besides Mary, of course.

"So," I say. We near the entrance doors to the ballroom. "When is Mary due?"

"In two months time," answers my brother. "Just before your wedding."

"Oh, lovely." I sigh. "Just another thing to look forward to."

"Lighten up." Jonathan nudges my shoulder with a half-grin. "Maybe this prince isn't bad. Maybe he's really nice."

"Since when has an arranged marriage ever been nice?" I remind him.

"Mother and Father." Jonathan points out. "Remember the stories they used to tell us about their life together?"

"And I think they're just that." I muse. "Stories."

But before my brother can respond, the doors open and we step inside the party.

Jonathan gives me a half-guilty grin after he spots his wife, who is waiting next to my mother and father. The grin means he doesn't want to ditch me but he wants to be near his wife in case anything happens to her, such as an early labor.

"Oh, just go." I push my brother's arm with a laugh. "Tell Mary I say hi."

"Thank you." Jonathan exhales and my brother leaves my side. I watch him hug Mary best he can and kiss her politely, like it's expected in public. He then says something and I assume he passes on my message, because Mary turns toward me and waves with a smile.

"It's quite a party, isn't it?" says a voice from beside me.

I turn. Standing beside me is a boy my age, with dark curly hair and pale skin. His grin is wide as he spreads his arms.

"Simon!" I hug him. "I thought you couldn't make it today!"

"I couldn't miss my best friend meeting her betrothed, now could I?" Simon pinches my cheek as a tease, laughing as I blush, mortified.

"Who else knows about this?" I hiss to him.

"The whole kingdom." he replies happily. "Your parents spread the news this morning."

"And yet I didn't know until five minutes ago." I sigh, chewing on my lower lip. "Typical."

"Oh, Clary." Simon laughs. "Always the last to know everything. Even in her own life."

"Isn't that how I've been my whole life?" I sigh, but I smile. "I've missed you, Simon. How's the countryside?"

"It's calm, as always." Simon rubs the back of his neck. "Mother definitely needed the vacation."

"I think you all did." I admit. "Your father's death took a great toll on everyone."

"Especially my mum, yeah," says Simon quietly. "She's still distraught. That's why she didn't come tonight."

"Give her my regards when you return home tonight, then." I smile at him. "But for now, we should keep the mood light. Do you want to dance?"

My best friend offers me his arm comically, earning a laugh from me as I take it. "Of course, milady. Though, I do feel the need to remind you that I am absolutely _rubbish _at dancing."

"Well, we should be quite a pair, then." I grin wider. "It seems that I still have my two left feet after all these years."

"We'll be the center of attention." Simon leads me to the center of the ballroom and takes my hand and takes my waist, winking at me as the music begins to play.

"You know, I'm quite interested in who your husband-to-be is." Simon admits to me as we sway around the floor. "All that I know is that he is the Prince of England."

"And I the Princess of Ireland?" I tighten my grip on his hand as we twirl—I've never been one for spinning. "And that we are to wed."

"Yes." Simon sighs. "I don't know what he's like, Clary."

"Do you mean you don't know if he'll let you stay my friend?" I know Simon all too well. The expression on his face is uneasiness. "I don't care what he says. You're my best friend for the rest of my life."

"I know that." Simon exhales. "But sometimes—"

"Don't think about the worst case scenario." I warn him. "Just enjoy the moment, Simon. Enjoy us making fools out of ourselves for the time being."

And with this my best friend laughs, spins me around again, and continues to dance with me around the ballroom.

* * *

"Clary, there's a man and a son speaking with your father." Simon speaks low into my ear, his mouth barely moving. "I think that's the King and Prince of England."

I watch as the kings shake hands, and then mumble back, "Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

And then my father beckons me over.

"Find Jon and let him know I'm by our father." I tell Simon quietly. He nods and disappears into the crowd of people, while I turn on my heel and walk toward my father.

He places his hand on my back. "King Robert, Prince Jonathan, let me introduce you to my daughter, Clarissa."

"Clary," I say, just as the prince corrects, "Jace."

We stare at each other. Huh. So I guess he's not one for full names either. "Hi." the prince called Jace speaks first, holding his hand out to me.

"Hello." I say softly, taking his hand and shaking it. His palm is warm, and the slightest bit clammy—is he as nervous as I am? "How are you?"

"I'm well." Jace's mouth turns up at one corner. "And you?"

"Well." I reply, and his smile widens slightly.

"We'll leave you two to it, then," says my father confidently, and with a wink in my direction he and King Robert leave Jace and I standing in front of each other.

"It's a lovely ball." Jace informs me. He's holding his hands behind his back as we survey the crowd.

"My mother designed it all." I agree, smiling lightly. "She's always been fascinated in the way we live."

"And you aren't?"

"Honestly? No."

Jace once again half-smiles at this, and he says, "So your nickname is Clary, huh?"

"Yeah." I tuck a loose curl behind my ear. "Clarissa is a mouthful."

"I like the name Clarissa."

I feel my cheeks heat. "So—uh, Jace? How do you get Jace out of Jonathan?"

"Jonathan Christopher." he informs me. "J-C. Jace."

"Out of all the nicknames you could have, you pick Jace?"

"Why? Is it not a good name?"

"It's not a very royal name." I remind him.

Jace only shrugs. "I'm not a very royal person."

"So you and I have much in common." I conclude.

"Very much so." Jace agrees, and a laugh escapes his mouth. "So where is your friend? The dark-haired boy you were dancing with all night?"

"Simon." I say. "Oh—he went to find my brother."

"Prince Jonathan?"

"That's the only brother—or sibling, rather—that I have." I nod. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Three." Jace laughs. "Alec, Isabelle, and Max."

"Alec is to be the king in your kingdom, isn't he?" I face him, my eyebrows furrowed. "Is he here tonight?"

"He's here somewhere." Jace sighs. "Though the whole king title for him isn't set in stone."

"It isn't?"

"Nope." Jace rubs the back of his neck. "But that's a different story. Anyways—he's two years older than I am. Isabelle is two years younger than me—"

"So she's my age." I realise, and then at his raised eyebrows I blush. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to interrupt you—"

"No, it's okay." Jace reassures me. He clears his throat, and then continues: "And Max is nine."

"Are they all here tonight?"

"Yes. You'll most likely meet all of them tonight."

"I'll look forward to that." I admit.

Jace takes a deep breath. "Well, for the time being, do you want to dance? I saw you and your friend dancing earlier; it looked like a lot of fun."

"You must have a very different idea of fun in contrast to everyone else." I inform him. "That was utter chaos."

He laughs. "Oh, come on." Jace holds his arm out to me. "I'm sure you're not that bad."

I take it. "Don't be so sure."

I'm rewarded with a laugh from Jace yet again as he leads me onto the dance floor, taking my hand and taking my waist just like Simon did minutes before.

Perhaps true love can come out of arranged marriages. It did for my parents—or at least, that's what I have been told before. Hope swells inside of me as we sway on the dance floor, with everyone around us glancing in our direction. My mother is smiling from where she is standing next to my father, whose expression is unreadable. But I can tell he's happy.

Everyone is happy.

That is, until a giant dragon knocks down one of the walls and breathes fire on us.

* * *

**That has to be the longest chapter I've ever written in my entire life. And I'm pretty proud of myself.**

**So go ahead and leave me a review, please? This is a new kind of story idea that I'm writing, and I'd love your feedback! X**

**Also, this week is my last week of school, which means I can update sooner after this week...but this week also means finals, so I'm not sure when the next update will be. Expect one by next Tuesday at the longest.**


	2. of weapons and caves

**Author's Note: I'm glad all of you liked the first chapter. Your reviews amused me, especially about the last sentence. :-) **

**So here's the next chapter! Have fun with it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognise, including The Mortal Instruments.**

**OH AND GUESS WHAT I FINISHED CITY OF HEAVENLY FIRE SO IF YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT JUST PM ME**

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**Chapter Two—Clary **

The dragon is a sea-blue, and its scales are glinting as it roars, but this time there is no fire escaping its jaws.

"Oh, bother." says a heavily-accented voice from somewhere near the prince's head. "Have I missed all the fun?"

"Bane." Jace breathes from beside me. The name is all too familiar—Magnus Bane, the country's warlock. Nearly everyone in the kingdom is afraid of him—my family included.

"What brings you to our castle?" I can hear the shake in my father's voice as he yells to be heard.

"Nothing of _your _concern, King Valentine." Magnus, who is standing on his dragon's head, does a mock bow. "I've come for someone else, actually."

"And who would that be?"

Magnus scans the crowd and whistles to his dragon. "_Him_."

The dragon's claws reach out into the crowd and pick up a dark-haired, pale-skinned young man. Jace inhales sharply from next to me and reaches to draw his sword.

Magnus's smile brightens. "Carry on."

The dragon spreads its wings and lifts itself into the sky with another roar of fire. Once it's gone, a woman weeps loudly from where the man was taken.

The King of England—Jace's father—rushes from my father's side to the weeping woman's. Next to me, I can see Jace's posture has slouched—he is holding onto the pillar beside us for support.

"That was Alec." I say slowly, realising and processing what had just happened. "That was your brother."

I don't have to hear Jace confirm it. His expression says it all.

"Jace?" a young girl who looks about my age runs up toward him. Her hair is black too, and she is absolutely gorgeous. I can only guess that this is Isabelle, Jace's younger sister. She is gripping the handle of her sword that hangs at her side. "I'm going after him. So is Max."

This shakes the prince out of his daze. "What?" his eyes widen. "You can't take _Max _with you—he's only _nine_, for the love of—"

"Then come with us." Isabelle interrupts him, placing her hands on her hips. "But I hope you're not expecting us to just sit around and let that stupid warlock take our brother. What does he want with him, anyway?"

"I have a few ideas." Jace says grimly, which only basically confuses all of us even more. He turns toward me and hesitates. "Tell your father and mine that we'll be back soon—"

"Fat chance." I retort. "I may not know you that well, or Alec, but this happened in my home and to someone that will be family after our arranged marriage and I won't sit by and let that happen."

Isabelle's eyes are wide. "I _like _her, Jace," she says to her brother confidently. "Father chose your bride wisely."

Jace only rolls his eyes at her and reluctantly turns to me. "Do you know how to fight?"

"Give me a bow and arrow." I reply.

The corner of his mouth quirks up as he says, "You got it."

"Our weapons room is just down the hall in case you need any other weapons." I inform him, and then turn toward Isabelle. "If you'd like something other than a large dress to fight a dragon and a warlock in, I've got fighting clothes that would fit you."

Isabelle's smile widens. "If—for some weird reason—Jace doesn't marry you, I will."

"_Women." _Jace snorts, shaking his head. He nods to Isabelle and lets her run off toward the weapons room with me.

The second we get there I reach for the bow and arrows perched on the wall, along with a small knife that I strap to my thigh underneath my dress. "The clothes are in that chest, there," I tell Isabelle with a jerk of my chin in the direction of the large chest. "Grab me the clothes on the far right in there, will you?"

"I have to admit, I'm glad you're coming with us." Isabelle tosses me the clothes. "I hate being the only girl."

"Don't I know it." I sigh. "Especially since we can't do the same things as the boys because—"

She finishes the sentence for me, in a mocking, nasally voice that sounds suspiciously like an angry mother. "We're ladies."

And then we both share a smile. "You know, Jace was super apprehensive about this." Isabelle readjusts her sword and whip—a strange weapon—at her side and ties the cloak around her. "He wants to marry because he loves a girl, but Father won't allow him to."

"I have to marry because my kingdom wants to bind with yours." I admit. "Our fathers believe we can unite Great Britain and Ireland—and call it the United Kingdom."

"How original." Isabelle quips dryly.

I laugh. "That's what I said."

"Clary?" my brother's voice calls. He skids into the weapons room, neither without caring nor considering whether we would be changing or not. "Father wants a word—"

"I don't have time, Jon," I interrupt him, pulling the hood of my cloak over my long braid of red hair. "Alec is in danger and Isabelle and I have to go—"

"He wants you to stay here." Jonathan is breathless. He must have run here. "He wants me to go in his place."

At this point, I see that my brother looks panicked. His eyes are shining with worry, and I know why—it's because Mary is so close to her due date, with only two months left, and he doesn't want to leave her, he doesn't want to have to fight with the chance of never coming back—

"That isn't happening." I say firmly, and although my brother is supposed to look concerned, I see the relief relax his muscles. "You stay here with Mary and our parents and you protect the kingdom. Jace, Isabelle, Max, and I will find the warlock and take Alec back."

"Clary—" Jonathan protests.

"Oh, save it." Isabelle's the one to interrupt us. Her eyes are blazing, but not with anger—with determination and adrenaline. "You know you want to stay here, and Clary's more than willing to come with us. We'll keep her safe, Prince Jonathan, don't worry."

Jonathan sighs, flashes Isabelle what looks like a grateful grimace, and then hugs me swiftly. "Be careful out there, Clary." he warns me. "I'll see you when you get home."

He's the one to lead us out of the room. The guests from the ball are huddled in pods, but I easily spot my parents—they stand with King Robert and Queen Maryse, Jace's parents, and I see the hope in my father's eyes as he glances at Jonathan, but it fades quickly when Jonathan shakes my head.

"Let's go get your brother back." I speak to Jace, Isabelle, and Max all at once, and before my father can scramble toward me and try to force me to stay, we leave the half-demolished ballroom toward the stables, where we will start our journey.

* * *

"The route from here to the warlock's lair isn't very well-known." I warn Jace. Isabelle puts a saddle on her horse, and Max is already sitting on his waiting for us. "It's only been described in the rarest of books."

"Right. So what are we expecting?" his glance at me explains that he assumes I'm a book nerd. I'm not—Simon is. Every time he visits he spends hours inside of that library and then hours afterwards relaying all the information to me.

"They call them the Silent Brothers." I tighten the sides of my saddle on my own horse and exhale. "They're worse than trolls."

"What could be worse than trolls?" Jace groans.

"You'll have to find out." I mount my house, and as does Jace. "But that's not all. There are wolves and other kinds of dangers we'll have to watch out for. Wolves aren't always dangerous, but it depends on what time of day you meet them at."

"Could you be so kind to provide an example of when _not _to meet them?"

"Nighttime." I say decidedly. "Nighttime is feeding time. Feeding time shows no mercy."

"Ah." Jace swallows. He doesn't look scared or nervous—just deep in thought. "Isabelle, Max?" he turns to face his siblings. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Isabelle replies, and Max nods.

"Then let's go get back our brother." Jace declares, and adds a hasty, "and soon-to-be brother-in-law," at me—is he _blushing?_—before digging his heels into the sides of his steed and galloping out of the stables.

It's been forever since I've properly ridden a horse, but the minute my horse Echo takes off, leaving dust behind her hooves, I feel absolutely incredible. Plus, pants are always nice, so that's a bonus.

"Dragons and warlocks." over the wind of the galloping horses, I hear Isabelle mutter to herself. "I'm rescuing my older brother from a warlock with a dragon. I knew there was something weird about Ireland that I didn't like."

This makes me laugh, but the sound is drowned out as we ride. Being a princess really isn't all it's cracked up to be—sure, you're royalty and people treat you nicely, but you get tossed around and bargained over too quickly. Marriage through love is hard to find and even harder to fight for—it's basically all arranged marriages today. Except for my brother, of course.

As I watch the Lightwood siblings (minus one) ride alongside me, they look like this is what they do every day of their lives. Even Max—only at nine years old—looks like he _sleeps _on a horse. The fact that they get this much freedom makes me jealous, to tell the truth.

I watch Jace—ahead of all of us, leading the way until he doesn't know where to go and I will have to step in. His golden hair is whipped by the wind, even blonder in the sun. He even _looks _like a king.

Maybe my mother is right. Maybe I will learn to love Jace Lightwood, the way my mother learned to love my father. But only time will tell.

* * *

When Jace's horse slows down, after the sun has over halfway set, I know he is looking to make camp somewhere.

Max and Isabelle are looking too, though I see that Max's eyes are half-closed, but not from squinting. Prince or not, he still is only a child, and he is tired. Jace's mouth opens to suggest making camp in the open until I spot something—something not too far from here. Something I was hoping still remained.

"A cave." I point to where I see it. "We'll be safe in there."

"Are you sure that's a _safe _cave?" Isabelle asks skeptically.

"I'm sure." I say confidently.

"And how are you?" Jace is hesitant too.

I gently nudge Echo's sides with my feet, sending her in a light trot. "Because I've been here before. With an old friend."

When I was six, Jonathan and Simon and I used to ride horses into the countryside of Ireland. Once, it was too dark for us to return home, and so we searched for a cave—just like my father had taught us once. And as we tie our horses' bridles to a makeshift rack along the side of the cave, I know for sure that this was the one we had used so many times after that first encounter.

After the horses are securely tied up outside the cave, I'm the one to lead the three Lightwood siblings inside. The cave isn't wet; it's dry, and set up just like we'd last left it—fresh firewood piled up, ready to be lit, and a stack of more dry wood in the corner for when we needed it. Along the walls are faint drawings from stones and chalks; stick-figure drawings of Jonathan, Simon, and I.

"I'll start a fire." Jace offers.

"It's fine; I've got it." I shake my head. "Maybe you and Isabelle can set up camp?"

"Or you and Isabelle can set up camp and I can start a fire." he suggests.

"Why are you so insistent on starting the fire?" I put my hands on my hips.

"I don't want you getting burned." Jace protests.

Isabelle snorts. "Jace, stop treating her like a china doll and let her start the fire."

"Your sister's right, you know." I tell him, while Jace's face falls at being chided by his own sister. "I've lit dozens of fires before in this very cafe. I know where everything is."

"Oh, all right." Jace rolls his eyes and follows his sister to where our gear is attached to the saddles. Satisfied, I flash a grin as Isabelle before moving to start the fire.

"What can I do?" Max asks eagerly. He's looking at Isabelle pointedly, like she's in charge of him.

"Um..." Isabelle bites her lip. "Nothing for now, Max, I'm sorry. Why don't you find your place to sleep?"

At this, Max's face falls, and I can see the shadow of myself in his features—when I was nine, my father made me miss an archery lesson so I could have tea with my mother. She knew I hated it, but she could do nothing to let me go back to my archery lesson. My reason for being upset was because I was a _lady _and I had to do _ladylike _things; Max's reason was that he was small, and this was a dangerous adventure, and there was little he could do without being hurt.

"Actually, Max," I say, causing all three pairs of eyes to look at me widely, "It turns out I don't have enough wood to keep the fire going; would you mind grabbing me a log or two from the pile over there?"

"Really?" Max's eyes light up with excitement, but it soon fades. "Aren't you strong enough to grab it?"

"I've got twig arms." I admit, which isn't a lie; it was always Jon or Simon who would carry wood. The last time I tried to, I nearly broke my own arm. "I'd probably end up breaking something if I tried, and that wouldn't help Alec at all."

Max decides this is a good enough reason for him—which it should be, because it was one-hundred percent truthful—and he dashes off to the dry wood pile in the corner and asks me, "Which logs?"

"Whichever ones you think would keep the fire going longest," I reply, and after a few minutes of grunts and wood slapping the cave floor, Max returns from the darkness and sets two logs on top of the pit in front of me—which, coincidentally, look like two logs that I would have chosen myself.

"Thanks, Max." I smile at him, and I get a smile in return as he happily sits down in a spot where I assume he will be sleeping, satisfied.

Five minutes later Isabelle and Jace have laid out the gear for themselves and I've got a fire going. Both older Lightwood siblings are on either side of Max, laid out in a way so all three of them can talk like siblings do.

Watching them makes me think of my own brother—and Simon. When we used to come here and light fires and even take sweets from the kitchens to eat in this cave, while we talked about our problems; Jonathan's fears of being a bad king, Simon's fears of losing me to a husband or a new best friend, or mine: being forced to do something I didn't want just because I was a woman.

We've grown so much since then. Jonathan's _married_ and about to be a father. Simon is...well, Simon is still Simon. Simon will always be Simon. There's no doubt in my mind about that.

But me? I was to be married in two months, and right now I was on a rescue mission for my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Alec Lightwood. Right now, for the first time in forever, I was without my best friend or my brother, and it felt very, _very _odd.

So instead of placing my sleeping bag on the floor near the Lightwoods, I placed it across from them, still close enough to the fire to feel its warmth but far enough away so I can't hear what they're speaking of. The last thing I want is to seem like I'm eavesdropping.

But I don't sleep. I listen to them laugh, and think of when Jonathan and I used to laugh all the time when neither of us could sleep. We would stay up for hours and talk, and sometimes fall asleep in each other's rooms—or even a ballroom. Jonathan is my partner in crime when Simon isn't, and I miss them both so much.

Eventually, Isabelle fades off to sleep. Max does, too. And I'm not sure if Jace is awake or not, but I still am, staring at the sparking embers of the sideways fire in front of me.

And then Jace speaks.

"Thank you," he says softly, and he props himself up on his elbow so we lock eyes over the fire.

"For what?" I reply. There's nothing for him to thank me for.

"For coming with." Jace shrugs lightly. I can tell he's not very comfortable with thanking people. "For actually being a cool person. For helping out with Max. He really likes you, you know. So does Isabelle."

I smile weakly. "Goodnight, Jace," I murmur, my eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion of the day sets in.

"So do I." Jace's voice is quiet, and I can barely hear him over the crackling of the fire, but I do hear him. And a moment later, he says, "Goodnight, Clary," and then he's asleep, and then so am I.

* * *

**Let me know what you thought about that chapter because I'm pretty proud of it. Oh, and after this, I've got a **_**really **_**good Clace story planned...**


	3. of silent brothers and truths

**Author's Note: I'm really appreciating all your feedback—thank you very much for it. X**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments.**

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**Chapter Three—Jace**

In the morning, I am the first one up.

Isabelle and Max have moved closer in their sleep and now my little brother is cuddling his older sister, fast asleep, with his head on her shoulder. Isabelle's arm is around him—protecting him in his sleep, like she always does whether she's awake or not.

The sun is just rising, but I'm wide awake. I've never been one to sleep in—or to sleep very long. So I pack up my things and hook them back onto the saddle of my horse, and then I put out the fire as the temperature of the summery weather begins to heat up.

Someone makes a noise.

I freeze. I hadn't noticed I was being loud—but I normally always am—and I turn to face the three sleeping people on the cavern floor, to find Clary stirring lightly.

Clary. The redheaded, short, freckle-faced pale princess I've been betrothed to. She's absolutely gorgeous; and she's stubborn, and she knows how to fight. Whether I love her or not is unknown to me, but I definitely know I have strong feelings for her.

"Jace?" her voice is soft, thick with sleep still, and she pushes herself up from the floor. Her eyes are half-open, and the side of her hair where she was sleeping on is frizzed. Still very pretty. "It's, like, the butt-crack of dawn. What are you doing up?"

This makes me grin. "I'm not a very late sleeper."

"That I see." Clary grumbles, pushing herself up. She, too, begins to pack up her gear. "We're nearly halfway to Magnus Bane."

"So we're near the Silent Brothers." I say, and she nods. "What about the wolves?"

"We aren't in their territory yet." Clary shakes her head. "And with luck, we'll pass it before we make camp for the next night."

She's hooking her gear onto her own horse when I say softly, "Thank you for helping us, again. I don't think I can thank you enough."

"Well, I can thank _you _by not being like a stereotypical betrothed prince." Clary's grin is teasing. She turns to face me. "You're actually very likeable, Jace Lightwood."

"Thank you." I wrinkle my nose. "I think."

She laughs, quietly, and pulls her hair out of its braid. It's wildly curly, and the way she rolls her neck makes me ask, "Does all that hair hurt? Isabelle's is just as long, but it's extremely thin, and straight, and she never wears it up."

"It hurts like a bitch." Clary informs me, and then her cheeks flush. "I mean—er, a lot."

It makes me laugh at her language. "I don't mind."

"Really?" her jade-green eyes widen. "I mean, not like I do it regularly, but—"

"Really." I confirm, reassuring her. "I don't mind. I'm not really into girls who are perfect ladies."

"Well, I'm not into guys who _are _into girls who are perfect ladies." Clary tells me. Her smile widens. "So I believe—"

"Jace?" Max's voice interrupts her, and I turn to look at my little brother, who is rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Is it morning yet?"

"It is now." I sigh, glancing at Clary apologetically, who shrugs.

"Good morning, Max." Clary tells my brother, and he grins.

* * *

Once Isabelle is awake, we finish loading our gear, and then we mount our horses and leave the cave. Clary is the one to lead us, but I ride alongside her; Isabelle is in the back and Max is between all of us.

"Have you read anything of the Silent Brothers?" I ask Clary, glancing at her as we ride along the trails.

"I have." Clary admits. She sighs. "I've read legends about never-aging men in grey cloaks. They have no eyes, and their mouths are sewn shut."

"So in other words, you and I will deal with them if necessary and Isabelle will protect Max."

At this, she sighs again. "I disagree with you there. I don't think you need to baby Max all the time. You saw him last night—he was absolutely crestfallen when you told him there was nothing for him to do. You and I—and Isabelle—all know that there _were _things he could do, but you wouldn't have let him unless he was older."

"I have to protect him." I insist.

"He can protect himself." Clary says gently. "If you just let him."

Anger flares within me for a moment. "You don't know what it's like," I snap at her, and her eyes widen in reply. "You don't have any younger siblings."

"You're right." her tone is strong; her eyes set determinedly as she replies. "But you might not have any if you don't let him be who he wants to be. Protection can be a good thing; but sometimes it can lead to death."

"Don't speak of it unless you've experienced it." I say tightly.

Clary stares at me for a moment, and then digs her heels into the sides of her horse, letting Echo trot faster, so she's in front of me.

I sigh. I should apologise, but saying it now would most likely make it worse. So instead, I let her stay in the lead, and try not to think that she's right.

* * *

"We're here." Clary tells me as she pulls on Echo's reins. Her tone is still tight, but before I can apologise she's off of her horse and drawing her knife. Her bow is slung around her, and so are her arrows. "Stay armed at all times. Unfortunately, there's no way to Magnus Bane's without going through the forest of the Silent Brothers."

"I want to come too." Max protests as he slides off his horse. "Don't make me stay out here."

I glance at Clary, but her expression tells me that this is my fight. I face my little brother and I kneel down, and I can already see the hurt swirling in his eyes before I even say anything.

I take a deep breath, and then ask: "Knife or sword?"

Max blinks. "What?"

"Knife or sword, kid?" I repeat, and his whole face lights up as he tells me knife, so I hand him one. "Just stay close to one of us at all times, okay?"

"Okay." Max throws his arms around me. "Thank you."

"Of course." I say. I catch Clary's gaze over his shoulder, but hers is guarded as she tightens her grip on her knife.

"I don't know what they'll want." Clary warns us. "I've never been here before. Just stay on your toes and don't trust them."

She disappears into the forest, her hand tightly wrapped around Echo's reins. I follow her, and Isabelle and Max follow me.

There is fog that picks up the deeper we walk. It is dark, but I can still see Clary beside me as we venture further. I keep my hand tight on Tremor's reins, and for a while all I hear is the footsteps of our horses and us.

And then the shuffling begins.

It's slow, like someone is dragging his or her feet against the floor, and it's eerie. It's all around us—behind, to the sides, and in front.

_Stop._

The voice in my head is like a snake's if it had a voice, and I immediately halt. So does Clary, and so do Isabelle and Max. I am not the only one who hears the voice.

_Who are you? _

"Clarissa Morgenstern." Clary announces. There's fear in her eyes, but not in her voice. She glances at me before she takes a deep breath. "Jonathan Lightwood, Isabelle Lightwood, and Max Lightwood."

"Maxwell." Max corrects her, and his voice is shaking. Isabelle places her free hand on his shoulder.

_What is your purpose here?_

Isabelle is the one to answer. "We are travelling to the lair of the warlock Magnus Bane."

"Jace." Clary hisses to me. Her hand points into the depths in front of us, where the silhouette of a cloaked figure becomes visible. A Silent Brother.

"We are rescuing Alexander Lightwood." Isabelle continues. She doesn't falter, so I don't believe she's seen a Silent Brother yet. "He's been kidnapped by Magnus Bane."

_And you chose to enter our forest._

"There was no other way." Clary declares. "Or none that I know of."

The figure comes closer, and Clary reaches down to take my free hand. Her fingers close tightly around mine as her breath hitches, and I can see how scared she really is. I squeeze her hand reassuringly, knowing the feeling. She needs to be reassured that she isn't alone.

"We are prepared to pay any price that you may give us to exit this forest to continue our journey." I say. Clary's grip tightens.

The figure comes even closer. His face becomes visible—hollow cheekbones, empty eye sockets, and a sewn shut mouth. Max makes a noise at the sight of him. _My name is Brother Zachariah_, he says. _And the stories you have heard about us are lies._

"What—" Clary starts.

_We will require a price, yes—but not at the expense of anything dear. _Brother Zachariah inclines his head. _We only require the truth._

"We told you the truth." Isabelle argues.

_Not the truth of your journey. _If he could smile grimly, Brother Zachariah would be. _The truth of yourselves. Each of you is being kept from a secret. We only wish to inform you of it._

"What good does that do for you?" Clary inquires.

_The Silent Brothers receive their payment in many ways. _Brother Zachariah steps closer. _Our reasons are confidential._

"Then what do you wish to show us?" I squeeze Clary's hand again; but this time, it's because _I _need to be reassured.

_It's not a matter of showing; it's a matter of telling, Jace Lightwood. _Brother Zachariah pauses. _Or should I call you Jonathan Herondale?_

Clary's hand goes slack in mine.

_She cannot hear what I tell you. _Brother Zachariah's eyes—if he had any—would be staring into mine now. _She hears her truth. But it is her choice whether she tells you or not._

_Then what's mine? _I think.

Brother Zachariah replies. _You are not a Lightwood._

Images fly behind my mind as it reels. I see a king—my father, Robert—finding a baby in the ruins of a castle. He picks the baby up—and with a jolt, I realise that the baby must be me. He holds the child close and leaves the ruins, taking the baby with him. He whispers to it: "Welcome to my family, Jonathan Christopher Lightwood."

_Your true name is Jonathan Herondale. _Brother Zachariah speaks in my mind. _Jonathan Herondale of Spain. The Herondales still rule Spain—after their archenemy destroyed their first palace, one survived besides you. Your grandmother, Imogen. She was able to produce an heir and keep the Herondale legacy going._

I've let go of Clary's hand and I am now leaning on Tremor for support as my world spins. I'm not a Lightwood. I'm a Herondale. My father—Robert—took me in as his own son while I was a baby, after the destruction of my kingdom. If he had _known _Imogen was alive...would he have still kept me?

_That is your truth, Jace Herondale. _Brother Zachariah begins to retreat into the shadows. _You can leave and come back in peace. Choose who you can trust with your truth wisely._

And then he's gone.

My world straightens, and I turn to look at Clary, who is white-faced. Isabelle does not look affected as she climbs her horse, and Max looks downright confused and a little upset as he mounts his.

"Clary, we have to go." I urge her, putting my hand on her arm, but she jerks from my touch and stares at me like I'm a monster.

"Don't." she snaps at me. And before I can ask, she hoists herself up on Echo's back and digs her heels into the horse's sides, causing the animal to gallop off into the darkness.

"What was that about?" Isabelle sounds worried as I climb onto Tremor.

"No idea," I say slowly, and then follow the red-haired princess to the end of the forest.

* * *

**And this is where it begins to get interesting...**

**Please review; I haven't really been getting a lot of feedback, and I don't know if you all like the story or not. Thank you all for reading, at least, but please leave a review and include your thoughts on the chapters for me. Thanks! X**

**OH: And can you guess the others' secrets? Put that in your review as well.**


	4. of wolves and plans

**Author's Note: Aaaaand I am back with Chapter Four! Read on. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments.**

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**Chapter Four—Clary **

The sun is setting, and we're nearing wolf's territory.

"We have to pass through the land of the wolves, and it will be dark out before we finish." I call over my shoulder, to Jace and Isabelle and Max. "Wolves respect packs, so we all have to stay close."

"Clary—" Jace starts.

"Not here." I snap at him. "And most likely not ever," I add softly, under my breath, so quiet that he can't hear. If I voice it out loud, it will happen: _War. Destruction. Death. Your marriage to Jace cannot be._

It's nearly dark as we cross the land; and we're nearly halfway to the exit when the howling starts, loud and haunting.

Max makes a noise from behind me, and I can only imagine the fear he feels—even I'm scared. The pack leader is supposed to be ruthless, bloodthirsty, and unmerciful—

"Here they come." Jace's voice is tight, and when I look over at him, he's gripping a knife in his hand.

The wolves come in a pack—just like we are. They don't run—only pad slowly across the grass, teeth bared; I see the pack leader in the front, its brown coat ruffling, piercing blue eyes shining—

Wait. Piercing blue eyes? There's one person that I know with those eyes, and that's—"Luke?" I squint at the wolf. "Is that you?"

The pack leader halts, its defensive stance disappearing. It looks just like a regular dog, and then—

"Clarissa?" the pack leader is a human. And it's _Luke_. Lucian Graymark.

Jace frowns. "You know him?"

"He's my mother's best friend and my former teacher; of course I know him." I hop off Echo and give Luke a tight hug. "We thought you were dead! Mother will be _so _pleased to hear—"

"No." Luke cuts me off, his eyes serious. "You _cannot _tell Jocelyn that I'm alive."

I blink. "But—why not? She thinks you're _dead_, Luke. I can't keep this a secret from her."

"Clary—you must." Luke insists, taking both of my hands in his. He stares at me and then says softly, "You've grown. Are you almost eighteen?"

"I will be this August." I answer, biting my lip. I can't keep a secret this big from my mother.

"And has your—has Valentine found you a husband yet?" Luke's change in words makes me frown.

"He has." I turn and look at Jace, who is watching me with his tawny eyes. "Luke—this is Prince Jace Lightwood of England."

Luke reaches out to shake Jace's hand, and hesitantly, Jace agrees. "What are you all doing in wolf territory?" Luke turns back to me. "What's happening in the mainland?"

"Someone was taken by Magnus Bane." Isabelle speaks up. "And we're going to get him back."

"Alec." Jace confirms. "My brother."

"Then you must be on your way." Luke gives me one last hug. "Don't tell your mother. I will when the time is right."

"I'll come back and visit you, Luke. Mother may not be able to know that you're alive, but I do. And I'm glad." I promise him, letting go of him with a smile.

Something floods Luke's eyes, and with a jolt I realise they're tears. Isabelle, Max, and Jace have almost moved past the wolf pack and out of the territory, and I'm on Echo and about to follow them when Luke catches my hand and says, "Clary, wait."

I signal for Jace to wait, and then look down at Luke.

"If you're travelling to Magnus Bane's, you must have gone through the Forest of the Silent Brothers." Luke's wringing his hands. "What did they tell you?"

I glance back at Jace. "They told me if I marry Jace, a lot of people are going to die. My father doesn't want to unite Ireland and Great Britain—he means to take over entirely. He means to—"

"Become a dictator." Luke realises. "To fight and gain more land and rule nearly all of Europe. Of _course_."

"What do you mean, 'of course?'?" my eyebrows furrow. "Luke—is this something my father would do?"

"It's how he used to be, before he was king." Luke takes a deep breath. "And once he _was _king, and married to your mother, he...he changed."

"Then what made him change back?" my heart pounds.

He stares up at me. "Revenge."

"For what? On who?" I shake my head. "This isn't my father, Luke."

"You're right." Luke blinks. "That isn't your father. Not at all."

"Clary." Jace calls urgently.

"Come back this way when you have Alec." Luke says softly, squeezing my hand. "Good luck, Clary."

"Thank you, Luke." I bite my lip and nudge Echo. Luke's words ring in my head as I follow the Lightwoods out of wolf territory.

* * *

"Here's another cave." Jace breaks our long silence as he points. "I'll scope it out and make sure it's safe. You three wait out here."

"Clary." hisses Max, bringing his horse next to mine. "I have to tell you something."

His voice sounds urgent. "What is it, Max?" I turn toward him.

"I know why Magnus took Alec."

My heart plummets. "Max, shouldn't you be telling Jace or Isabelle—"

"I want to tell you first." Max shakes his head. "When we went to the Silent Brothers, and they showed us the truth, mine was the real reason that Magnus took Alec."

"And what was it?" I frown.

"Magnus doesn't want to _hurt _Alec; Magnus took Alec because he's _in love _with him." Max bites his lip. "And Alec is in love with him, too. They came up with this plan—that Magnus would play the bad guy and take Alec, so he could have time alone with him. That's the reason why Alec might not become king—because he, er, is in love with a warlock."

'In love with a warlock' is probably _not _the reason why Alec wouldn't become king; but I am still processing what Max has just told me. "And what's going to happen to us when we get there?"

"Alec will tell us the truth." Max confirms. "And Magnus won't hurt us. Alec will come back willingly."

"But he won't be happy." I realise.

Max shakes his head. "No, he won't."

"Would you rather your brother be happy?" I ask him, and his eager nod gives me the answer I need. "Okay. Good. You can't tell Jace or Isabelle this unless I say it's okay, but here's what we're going to do..."

* * *

Hours later, Max is passed out on the cave floor, his head in Isabelle's lap. Jace is still awake, sitting, poking at the fire; and I am lying down with my back facing all three of them, wide awake.

"There's no point in pretending to be asleep, Clary," says Jace suddenly. "I know you're awake."

"So what if I am?" I say back, but I sit up and face him. "Just because I'm awake doesn't mean I have to talk to you."

Jace sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were mad at me, and then you weren't, and now you look at me like I'm a monster and you speak to me like I'm going to destroy the whole world." Jace stares at me over the fire; his eyes alight are with annoyance and anger—and maybe even a bit of hurt. "What did I do to you? What did the Silent Brothers tell you?"

I chew on my lower lip. I want to tell him—but I can't. And the reason I find myself not wanting to tell him is because...maybe I _do _want to marry him.

"Jace..." I say quietly. I have to tell him. There's no other choice. If I tell him, then he can make a decision as well as I can. "My father...he wants to become a dictator."

Jace blinks, urging me to go on.

"He wants us to marry so he can _rule _over Great Britain and Ireland—not so he can unite the kingdoms and let you and I rule them." I shake my head. "He wants to take over—and then use our military force to fight our way into the rest of Europe and take over there too."

"So we can't get married." Jace realises.

"No." I agree. "No, we cannot."

"And did you want to? Get married to me, I mean?"

Very faintly, but still loud enough that he can hear me, I say, "Yes."

The side of his mouth quirks up. "Me, too. I mean—I want to get married to you. Not myself. That would be weird."

I laugh quietly. "Yeah. That would be weird."

Jace full-out grins, shaking his head and staring at the fire. "So what are we going to do?"

"I have an idea." I admit. "I told Max this earlier—Max's truth was why Magnus took Alec."

Jace's eyes widen. "_Really?"_

I nod. "And—well, Magnus and Alec are kind of a couple. They're in love; Magnus took Alec so they could spend time together."

"And Alec must have known we were coming." Jace realises. "And once we got there—"

"He was going to tell us the truth." I confirm. "And come back with us. But he won't be happy—not ruling as king and without the man he loves."

"So we aren't making him come back." Jace's face falls.

"No." I exhale. "No, we're not."

"Then why are we still travelling to Magnus's lair? What's the point?"

"Because he can help us." I wring my hands. "Or, at least, I hope he can."

"With what?"

"With my father." I exhale. "I _can't _let him try and rule all of Europe, but you and I both know we can't back out of this marriage. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. That's what Luke insinuated."

"Maybe we can." Jace says slowly.

"Maybe we can what?" I frown.

"My truth was that I'm _not _a Lightwood." Jace stands up; he begins to pace. "If we reveal that, then he can't get Great Britain. And then maybe he can't be a dictator."

"Wait—you're not a Lightwood?" I stand up too. "Then who are you?"

"Jace Herondale."

"That's no help." I remind him. "The Herondales are of _Spain_—their empire is bigger than Great Britain's, Jace. If my father finds that out—then he'll definitely force us to marry—and then he'll have more land than originally planned. The only way that could work would be if I wasn't Valentine's daughter. But I am."

Jace swears under his breath. "You're right."

"So Magnus is our only hope." I conclude, biting my lip.

"Magnus is our only hope." Jace agrees softly. "Do you think he'll help?"

"We're letting him keep Alec." I nod. "I think he will."

"This plan is crazy." Jace exhales.

"Our lives are crazy." I correct.

At this, he laughs. "Our lives _are _crazy."

I frown. "Hey—so I know your truth, you know mine, and we know Max's. What was Isabelle's?"

"I'm not sure." Jace admits.

"Well, I'm not telling you." Isabelle mutters grumpily, her eyes still shut. "You idiots woke me up."

Jace and I exchange grins. "Sorry, Izzy." Jace whispers.

She snorts. "Like hell you are." then the princess rolls over and she's asleep again.

I hide my laughs behind my hand, and Jace is silently laughing. "We should probably get to bed too." I sigh. "Tomorrow we'll be at Magnus's."

"We'll be back by the end of the week." Jace agrees, biting his lip. "Unless we stay here and form a plan to take down your father."

"Taking down my father is what we have to do." I exhale slowly and shut my eyes. "But there's only one way we can do that."

"And what is it?"

Jace knows the answer—but he wants to hear me say it.

I open my eyes. "We have to kill King Valentine."

* * *

In the morning, we pack everything up and get back on our horses. It's about half a day's journey to Magnus Bane's lair.

Jace rides beside me, but we don't speak. Neither do Isabelle or Max. We just ride in silence, over the hills and through the paths.

"Clary," says Jace softly. I turn to face him as the horses ride on. "I was thinking...about what you said last night. About killing your father."

_Oh_. I swallow. "What about it?"

"Well...if we succeed, then he can no longer use our marriage to rule Europe." Jace bites down on his lower lip. "So if we _do _succeed, and the king is dead...would you still marry me? If it were up to us?"

But before I can answer, Isabelle calls, "Clary, I think this is it."

Jace's jaw clenches as I turn away, to face the entrance of what looks like a warlock's lair. "You're right, Isabelle." I call back. "Alright; let's do this."

We tie the bridles up onto a tree branch and just for precaution, I grasp my bow firmly in my left hand. Jace has a sword, Max has a knife, and Isabelle has her whip. We enter the cave, and I am on high alert for anything.

"Alec?" Max calls out. "Alec, where are you?"

"Max," hisses Isabelle, and I forgot that she didn't know the plan, "_what are you doing—"_

"Isabelle, it's okay." Max tells her urgently. "Magnus won't hurt us. Or Alec."

"The boy's right, you know."

We turn around. Magnus is standing in the entrance of the cave with a smile on his face. "I only needed a—"

"Villainous-like appearance to get Alec alone with you." Jace finishes. "Yeah, we know. We understand."

"Oh, _good_." Magnus's grin widens. "Well, Alec's in the dining room, if you'd like to join us. I just took the tea off the kettle."

Isabelle's gaping. "What—"

"Alec will explain everything, love," reassures Magnus. "But for now, just sit with us and have some tea. I assure you, I make the best."

"I don't understand." Isabelle squeaks.

"Just come _on_, Izzy." Max grabs his sister's hand and pulls her after Magnus. "We'll explain everything."

"Of course we will." Magnus promises. He opens the door to the kitchen, and there is Alec—perfectly healthy, sitting at the table, sipping at a cup of tea.

"Alec!" Max cries, and runs toward his brother. He throws his arms around him and Alec is slightly surprised, but after a minute he hugs him back. "We aren't here to take you home." Max says hurriedly, pulling away. "We know you love Magnus, and we know that's why you can't be king, and we know that you want to stay here and we're going to let you—"

"Wait, slow down." Alec's eyes are wide. "I don't love Magnus!"

"Hurtful." Magnus snorts.

"Cut the crap, Alec." Jace sighs. "It's cool."

Alec hesitates. His eyes flash to Isabelle.

"I had no idea." Isabelle puts her hands up. "Apparently I'm always the last to know. But if you're happy, Alec, then so am I."

"Really?" Alec glances at Jace, and then down at Max, and then back to Isabelle. "You are?"

"Of _course _we are." Max grumbles. "We're your family. We love you. We want you to be happy."

With a pang, I remember my father—my father, who has a whole different personality than I thought. I swallow hard and look down.

"And you'd be willing to let me stay here?" Alec looks at Magnus, who is smiling.

"Of course." Jace says gently. "We came to say goodbye."

Suddenly Alec is jumping out of his seat and he pulls Max in for a hug, along with Jace and Isabelle. Alec is crying, and I'm sure Isabelle is too, but I can't see her face.

"But that's not why _you _came here." Magnus whispers in my ear. I don't jump. "What do you need me to do for you?"

"Depends." I say. I keep my voice low as I turn to face him. "Are you willing to help?"

"Duh." he rolls his eyes. "I mean, we're practically in-laws anyways. You need help killing your father."

I bite my lip.

"It's a wise choice, really." Magnus shrugs. "He's going to take over Europe and basically kill anyone who refuses—which will be a lot of people. We need to take him out—and I'm absolutely willing to help. He'd kill me if he succeeded."

"What do I have to do?" I hate the sound of desperation in my voice—I don't want to kill my father, but I have to.

"Well, lucky for you, I've got something planned." Magnus grins at me. "And it involves your mother."

"My mother?" I blink. "What does she have to do with this?"

"More than you think, love." he throws a wink at me. "When you four leave here today, go back to Luke and the wolves. Tell him Magnus has a plan and that you _all_—including the pack—have to go back to the castle. Alexander and I will meet you just outside the castle in three days. I'll tell you the rest of my plan there."

"Do you really think we can do this?" my eyes widen. "Do you really think we can kill my father?"

"I have one-hundred percent faith in you." Magnus replies. "Well, I'll be there too, so I'll help. That always helps."

I roll my eyes.

"Clary, it's time to go." Jace tells me. The Lightwood family hug has dispersed, and Isabelle and Max are wiping their eyes—so is Alec. "We've got to go home now."

I nod. "Alright."

"It's nice to meet you, by the way." Alec tells me honestly, smiling slightly. "I was looking forward to meeting you."

I shake his hand. "It's nice to meet you too. I've heard a lot about you."

Alec smiles broader and goes to sit back down at the table.

"Clarissa." Magnus warns. He takes my arm to stop me from walking away. "Be _careful_. Your father is worse than you can imagine. I've watched him grow up—there are things he can do that you need to watch out for."

"So what can I do?" I bite my lip.

"Your brother will help. But you need to keep his wife out of it. That baby needs to be protected." Magnus exhales. "Whatever you do, don't let Valentine get his hands on Mary or the baby."

"Okay." I exhale.

"Good luck." Magnus tells me. "I'll see you in three days."

"Three days." I confirm. He lets go of my arm, and then I follow Jace, Isabelle, and Max out of the cave.

* * *

**And there's the longest chapter I've ever written for anything. Wow.**

**So Magnus is on our side! And Clary's got plans to take down her father...how's that going to play out? Stay tuned! (Also, leave a review for how you think it's all going to play out! X)**


	5. of last names and conflicts

**Author's Note: So I was watching Breaking Dawn and I realised that the actor for Caius looked a **_**lot **_**like Jamie...and then I realised it **_**was **_**Jamie. Oops. Looks like Jace's hostility toward Simon is just to hide the fact that he's **_**actually a vampire too. **_**That is all.**

**OH, yeah, and Robert Michael Sheehan is literally the best person ever.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned The Mortal Instruments, certain things would not have happened in those books. I'd make them all happy. All the time. **

* * *

**Chapter Five—Jace**

We leave Magnus's lair in silence. Isabelle is still sniffling—she and Alec were—are—incredibly close. I don't blame her. Max reaches over and pats Isabelle's leg comfortingly. He gives her a reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry." Clary tells me. Her teeth are clamped down on her bottom lip, and her eyes shine with hesitation. "It's not fair."

"You're right." I exhale. "It's not."

"At least he's happy." she tries. "Isn't that what you want him to be?"

"It's what I'm _supposed _to want him to be."

"Then what do you want him to be?"

"Home."

After that, Clary does not speak again. She only takes a deep breath and reaches down to pet Echo's side. Clary's hair is up in a ponytail, and the curls bounce with each step the horse takes. I think of how I had basically asked her to marry me of her own accord before Isabelle spotted Magnus's cave, and how her eyes had widened with shock. She hadn't been expecting that from me. And quite frankly, neither had I. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.

"Are you ever going to tell them?"

"What?" I blink. Clary's staring at me, her green eyes glinting.

"Are you going to tell Isabelle and Max?" she repeats. "That you're a Herondale, I mean."

"I don't know." I admit, reaching up to rub the back of my neck. "Part of me wishes I didn't even know the truth."

"The Silent Brothers work that way." Clary sounds distant. "They gain from suffering."

"All kinds of magic come at a price." I recall; it was an old saying my father—Robert—used to tell us when we were little.

"I keep going back to what Luke told me." she bites down at her bottom lip. "I told him that 'this isn't my father'—referring to Valentine's actions. But...Luke said that I was right, and that it _isn't _my father. And he never called Valentine my father. Not once."

"You think Valentine isn't your father?" I watch her expression—how the gears are practically turning in her head. "Clary, that's insane."

"Then _why _would Luke say those things?"

"Maybe he doesn't consider Valentine as your father because of things he did." I suggest. "You _did _say Luke grew up with you, yes? Maybe he considers himself more of a father figure for you because the king isn't a good enough one."

Clary looks unconvinced, but she doesn't argue. "Maybe." she muses softly. "But we'll see, won't we?"

"You aren't seriously planning on asking him that." I groan.

"Maybe I am."

"Clary, that's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because if he says yes, it will make him seem rude and arrogant. But if he says no, then it makes him look like he only said it to turn you against your own father." I shake my head. "Don't ask him."

"Don't tell me what to do, Jace." she all-but snaps, making me roll my eyes. "_What?"_

"Are we really back to arguing?" I run my hand through my hair in frustration. "I thought we got past that point."

"Well, if you disagree with what I'm going to say, then I'm going to argue. So I guess we did _not _get past that point." Clary stares at me challengingly.

"Whatever."

"Don't you 'whatever' me!"

"Don't be so irritating, then!"

"I didn't _do _anything!"

Instead of snapping back, I only snort. "You know what? Forget it." I kick Tremor's side and he trots further head, in front of Clary, Isabelle, and Max, so I'm leading the four of us. Clary huffs angrily from behind me.

I don't turn around or slow down.

* * *

Clary doesn't speak again until we reach the wolf pack. Luke is already waiting, as a human, with two teenagers—one girl, one boy—at his sides. He grins when he sees us, and raises a hand to wave at Clary.

"Did you fail?" asks Luke immediately as Clary climbs off of Echo and greets him with a hug. "You don't have Alec with you."

"No; it's okay." Clary smiles. "He's happy where he is."

"Well, that's good." Luke exhales. "Clary—this is Maia, my second-in-command." he gestures to the girl on his right, whose hair is in braids. Maia nods at Clary and shakes her hand. "And this is Jordan, my third." the boy flashes a grin. "They wanted to meet you."

"Well, good." Clary takes a deep breath. "Because Magnus has a plan. And he needs us—_all _of us, including you and your pack—to travel to the castle. In three days, he and Alec will meet us there."

"What is the plan?" Maia's eyebrows furrow.

Clary shakes her head. "I have no idea. He didn't say. But I'm sure he will when we meet up with him and Alec." she looks at Luke. "Are you in?"

"Absolutely." Luke's grin is wide, and very wolfish. "We can camp out here for the night, and then we'll start toward the castle in the morning. Does that sound like a plan?"

"It does."

"Then come." Luke glances at me, Isabelle, and Max. "We aren't _always _wolves, you know. We've got plenty of room at our camp."

* * *

As night falls, it gets colder. We all huddle on logs near the fire, while members of Luke's pack tell stories—Maia's brother, Daniel, is currently ranting on about one of the 'funniest pack moments', but I can't help but notice that Max has fallen asleep on Isabelle's shoulder, and Clary is staring at the fire, completely zoning out.

"Hey." I bite my lip, nudging the red-haired princess of Ireland with my shoulder. She snaps out of her daydream and glances at me, her green eyes shining. And I realise they're shining with _tears_.

"What if we can't win?" her voice trembles, and I can barely hear it over the roaring laughter of the pack. "What if we can't beat my father? What if—what if—"

"He forces us to get married and takes over Europe?" I finish for her. "We can still defeat him, Clary, even if he forces us to marry. And marrying me wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

She laughs weakly. "No. It wouldn't be."

"Everything's going to turn out fine." I say softly. "I promise, Clary. No matter what."

"There's one part I don't get." Clary bites down on her lip, hard enough that she draws blood. "Magnus told me to keep Mary and Jon's baby away from Valentine. What do you think that meant?"

"Babies are the most precious thing in the world to anyone." I say, reaching up and wiping off the blood on her lip. "If your father got a hold on that child, you would let him win in an _instant_. You wouldn't risk your niece or nephew—nor would Jonathan and Mary risk their child or your mother risk her grandchild. I highly doubt Valentine would slaughter his first grandchild, but you can never guarantee that."

"So if Valentine takes that baby, he wins." Clary realises.

"Yeah." I echo with an exhale, turning to stare at the fire. "He wins."

She shakes her head. "This is so messed up. Why is my father doing this?"

"Every villain has his or her reasons." I point out.

"You think he's a villain?" her voice cracks on the last word.

My eyes widen. "Oh, Clary, I—I don't—"

Clary takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, her fingers tightening around the mug in her hands. "It's okay." she sounds absolutely broken. "I...I do too."

* * *

"_Jace."_

Clary's voice stirs me in the morning. When I open my eyes, she's crouching over me—it's bright outside. I must have slept in. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty." she nudges my shoulder, smiling lightly. "Breakfast is ready—and I realised something."

I yawn widely and sit up. "What'd you realise?"

"Mary's baby." her smile is still wide. "Mary's baby isn't due for another month and a half—and our wedding isn't until then either. We've got plenty of time to do this."

"So things have turned in our direction." I rub the back of my neck and Clary holds her hand out to help me stand up.

"Indeed they have." Clary grins.

She's in a particularly good mood today; I follow her outside, my hand still in hers from when she helped me up, and spot Isabelle and Max sitting with Maia and Jordan on the logs.

"Morning!" Isabelle calls to me. "Sleep well, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Is that just my new name?" I complain, sitting down on the log. It feels weird to let go of Clary's hand, but I do it anyway.

"Yes." says Max decidedly.

"Luke's preparing the warriors in case of battle." Maia informs me. "As soon as he's done with that, we'll be on our way. So eat up."

"What's for breakfast?" I take the plate offered to me from Jordan.

"Chimera." Isabelle answers casually. "Apparently it's a delicacy, and I don't disagree. It's actually good."

"Somehow I have a feeling that I shouldn't trust you." I say warily, eyeing my sister.

"She's telling the truth." Clary nudges my shoulder. "Eat, stupid. Or we all get to say we told you so later if you're hungry."

"Okay, Bossy Pants." I grumble, and she sticks her tongue out at me in response.

"Looks like that'll have to be a to-go meal, Jace." Luke calls from behind me. "Saddle up. We're ready."

"Will you be travelling on horses as well?" Isabelle stands.

"Nope." Maia grins. "Unlike you lot, we prefer to _be _on four legs rather than _ride _on them."

Luke places his hand on Clary's shoulder. "Are you ready?" his eyes are shining with worry and adrenaline at the same time. "Killing your own father isn't exactly an easy task."

Clary takes a deep breath, looks up at Luke, and then she looks at me. "Yes. I'm ready."

"Then let's do this." the pack leader claps his hands together. "Wolf up, everyone!"

Luke's wolfish grin is mirrored by all other the werewolves around us. "Let's go kill the king."

* * *

"I never answered you, by the way." Clary tells me hours later, as we ride toward the castle in the distance.

"Answered what?" I blink at her.

She rolls her eyes, and a small grin shapes her mouth. "Honestly, Herondale, are you really that daft?"

"Don't call me that."

Clary ignores me. "Right before we entered Magnus's cave, you asked me if I would still marry you if it were completely my choice."

"Oh." of course I remembered that; the moment where I had completely exposed myself to a girl I really liked and had never received an answer because my sister decided I wasn't allowed to get one. "Well—you don't have to answer. If you don't want to."

"But I want to." Clary's eyes shine with humour. "And I'm afraid it'll have to be a no."

My heart sinks. Her tone makes it worse—like she actually finds this _funny_. I turn away from her and raise my hands, prepared to snap them down and make Tremor ride faster so I don't have to see her expression.

"Unless you keep Lightwood as your last name." Clary adds thoughtfully. "Because 'Clary Herondale' just sounds absolutely _dreadful_, don't you think?"

_Oh._

I glance back at her, and the princess bursts into laughter. She's basically crying as her shoulders heave with laughs, reaching out and shoving my shoulder with the palm of her hand. "You should have _bloody _seen your _face!" _

"Shut up." I grumble. This only makes Clary laugh harder. "It isn't funny, Morgenstern!"

"Oh, so now we're calling each other by our last names?" her eyebrows rise. "Bring it on, _Lightwood."_

"Don't call me that!"

"Then what should I call you?" Clary's grin is wide and there are tear tracks down her cheeks. "Herondale-Lighwood? Are you of Italy as well? Should I tack on Wayland on the end of your name?"

"_What? _That's ridiculous!" I splutter.

"Or if we marry, should we take my last name?" Clary laughs again. "You'd have the same name as my brother. Jonathan Morgenstern. Maybe I should just call you every last name in the book."

"I can't stand you."

"The feeling's mutual, Herondale-Lightwood-Wayland-Morgenstern."

"Don't make me seal your mouth shut."

But Clary only laughs again. And I can't help but smile—because it really is funny, and it's nice to have a bit of a laugh in the midst of what we're planning. So I don't say anything. I just listen to the princess laugh as we ride and think of how lucky I am that Robert picked this princess to be my wife.

Well, and that she would marry me anyway.

(But to be honest, I don't think Clary Herondale sounds all that terrible.)

* * *

We reach the castle nearly a day early. The sun is setting on the second day when we reach the outside wall of the castle—and Magnus is already there, waiting with Alec.

"Something's wrong." Clary realises. As I squint at the warlock and my brother, I realise that she's right—Alec is twisting his hands together, and Magnus is pacing back and forth very quickly.

Clary slaps the reins and Echo neighs loudly, galloping faster toward the warlock. Clary doesn't even bother to stop her horse before she jumps off and slows Echo by tugging on the reins.

"...happening?" Clary demand as I'm within earshot. I jump off Tremor and join her. "Why are you here a day early? Why do you look nervous? What's going on? Does Valentine know what's happening?"

"No." Alec takes a deep breath. "It's worse."

"It's Mary." Magnus is still pacing. "Mary, Mary, Mary. It's Mary."

Clary stares at the warlock. "Has he gone _mad?"_

"What happened to Mary?" I ask Alec.

Alec only shakes his head. "Magnus won't tell me. Truthfully, I think he really is going mad."

Clary takes Magnus by the shoulders and slaps him hard across the face. "_Magnus. _Focus. What happened to Mary?"

This apparently brings Magnus back, because he blinks rapidly. "Mary's gone into labour." he rubs his temples. "A month and a half early. This is bad. This is _very bad."_

"We can't fight him." Clary realises. She spins to face me. "Jace, we can't fight him! He'll only get the baby and then—"

"And then he'll win." Fear grips me. "Oh, no."

"There's nothing we can do." her shoulders sag. "Valentine is going to rule Europe and we can't stop him anymore."

But apparently Magnus has different ideas. He snaps his fingers together, and says—"Your mother."

"Mine?" Clary frowns. "What does my mother have to do with anything?"

Magnus glances behind us, and his eyebrows rise. "You brought the wolves."

"Magnus Bane." Luke's voice greets from behind me. "It's been a while."

"Magnus." Clary's voice is tight. "What does my mother have to do with this?"

Magnus glances at Clary, and then behind me. "Maybe I should let her explain that. Or maybe Luke."

"I'm so _confused!" _Clary groans. "Can someone please just explain what's going _on!"_

"Maybe I can."

The voice sends everyone's heads turning toward it. It's familiar to Clary, because she gasps loudly and grabs my hand.

A man steps up the hill, wearing a cape and a crown. His hair is white, and he sneers in Luke's direction before focusing his eyes on Clary.

"I've decided to move the wedding up." he says, and the cheerfulness in his tone is completely false. "It's going to be tonight, actually. You shouldn't have any qualms about that, correct?"

It's Valentine.

* * *

**Just letting all of you know that I will most likely not update tomorrow, because I'm going to an amusement park. I really shouldn't have ended this chapter on a cliffhanger, but maybe if you all review loads of times I'll make sure I update tomorrow...Xxx**


	6. of resolutions and happy endings

**Author's Note: Well, I'm back from the amusement park and ready to write a new chapter! So enjoy! This is where it gets **_**interesting**_**.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not Cassandra Clare, but I really wish I was. (on an off note, did you know she originally wrote Harry Potter fanfiction under her penname of Cassandra Clare? But before she wrote City of Bones, she deleted all of the stories.)**

* * *

**Chapter Six—Clary**

After Valentine joined us on the hill, things were in chaos. Magnus shot me and Jace an apologetic glance and grabbed Alec's arm, and then they were gone. The wolves—including Luke, had turned back _into _a wolf, backed up and refused to act. My father had grabbed Jace and I by the arms and put us in separate towers—where he was going to keep us until sunset, when the wedding would take place.

I pace in my tower, hands locked behind my back. Outside the small window in the tower, the sun is nearly at the horizon. I've tried climbing out of it—feet first, head first, but nothing will work. It's too small even for me.

Valentine is going to win.

The door is unlocked and someone is pushed inside—and it's Isabelle. Her expression is panicked, and she lets out a yelp as the door slams shut. Whoever is on the other side locks it again.

"Isabelle." I breathe.

"Clary!" Isabelle drops what she's holding and throws her arms around me. "Oh, God, Clary, we were so _worried_—"

"We?" I echo with a frown.

"My mother and father—they're here, and Max was with us." she exhales. "Your mother's gone."

I feel my insides go cold as Isabelle quickly elaborates: "According to Valentine, he has no idea where she is either. But I don't doubt that—he looked really angry when he couldn't find her. That's why I'm here. I have to help you get ready for the wedding."

"Right." my body feels numb as I move to sit down in front of the vanity in my room. Isabelle's lips are pressed together in a thin line; she reaches for the comb on the table and runs it through the curls I've been twisting around my fingers in frustration for the past three or so hours. "The wedding."

"I hardly think it's the time or place to ask you if you're excited," she quips. "But I am glad you're marrying my brother, despite the circumstances."

_Her brother. _Jace Lightwood—who really is a Herondale. "If there was anyone I'd have to marry, I would pick him." I agree, but I can't say that I'm not nervous.

"I don't blame you." Isabelle laughs, tying my hair up elegantly. She exhales. "Clary, I'm sorry about your father."

"He's not my father." I shut my eyes. "I don't know _who _he is."

"He won't win this, Clary." Isabelle reassures me. She leaves my side to reach down, and when she stands back up she's holding a white wedding gown that I realise is my mother's. "I promise you."

* * *

Jonathan looks like he's seen everyone he loves killed in front of him when I greet him.

"Father—Valentine—he's—he's got the baby." Jonathan whispers to me, panicked, his shaking hands gripping my arms. "He's not—he's not our father, I don't know who he is, Clary, I—"

"It's going to be okay, Jon." But Jonathan does not look convinced. "Did you see the baby? Did you name—?"

"No." Jonathan takes a deep breath. "The _minute _Mary gave birth to him, Valentine took him, and—"

"Him?" I echo. "It's a boy?"

A smile takes over my brother's face. "Yeah."

But his smile is gone as soon as it's there. We're standing outside the largest ballroom in the castle, where I am to wed Jace any minute now. Jonathan's hands are still shaking as he takes my arm, and I can tell that he's just as scared as I am.

"We'll get your son back." I promise my brother softly, taking a deep breath. "Valentine won't win this, Jon, I promise."

The smile on his face is heartbreakingly sad. "I know you've always been optimistic, Clary." Jonathan says sadly. "But we can't win this. Not as long as Valentine has my son. And we can't get my son back without killing Valentine."

I bite down on my bottom lip.

"Wait—_that's _what you're planning?" his voice gets louder with each word. "You're planning on _killing _our _father?"_

"Shut up!" I snarl at him. For Valentine to hear our plans—or anyone else for that matter—now would make us lose everything. "Jonathan, it's the _only way." _

"Clary—" starts Jonathan, but before he can finish, the doors fly open.

"Here we go." I breathe under my breath, and then together we step through the doorway of the ballroom.

Most of the crowd gasps at my entrance, enticed by what beauty Isabelle has managed to give me, but when I meet Jace's eyes across the room all that's in his are fear. And I'm sure that's the same in mine. Max is beside him, and he gives me a small wave—but even Max looks scared. Simon is up there, too—next to Isabelle, whose face is completely white. Mary is beside Isabelle, crying silently—and Valentine stands next to my sister-in-law, holding his grandson like nothing is wrong. He stares at Jonathan and I as we walk.

And my mother is nowhere to be seen.

I consider just running—just turning around and fleeing from the ballroom, using cold feet as an excuse. But I know I can't do it; if I do, if I try to run, then Valentine will kill my nephew, and I am not about to let that happen.

I glance back at Jace as we near him, but I can't read his eyes. My heart pounds loudly in my chest. This is happening. Maybe Jonathan is right. Maybe we can't win this.

Jonathan lets go of my arm the minute we reach Jace, and though it isn't necessary, I reach for Jace's hands. He squeezes them in reply, and I relax—he's in this with me. Whatever we do, we'll do it together.

"We're gathered here today to join the kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland—through the marriage of Princess Clarissa Morgenstern of Ireland and Prince Jonathan Lightwood of England."

I remember the five last name conversation I had with the prince in front of me on the way to the castle and I suppress a smile, but Jace's eyes are filled with humour. He's thinking of the same thing I am.

And then I realise that the words spoken by the priest aren't what a normal priest would say.

Surprised, I turn to face the man marrying us. And beneath the hat and the robes are the same twinkling, catlike eyes that I remember from when they were wide and apologetic in the clearing.

_Magnus_.

"But I don't see how that's possible." continues Magnus, his voice very loud and very bored. "Because neither of them are who they think they are."

The doors fly open.

Inside steps my mother. She's one-hundred percent fine, and that's when I realise the two people beside her.

One of them has grey hair and she's short. Her skin is very tan. Her eyes fix on Jace and she takes a deep breath in.

And the third person is a wolf—who looks like a dog—with piercing blue eyes. Luke.

"Jonathan," breathes the old woman. The woman is Queen Imogen of Spain—the last in the line of Herondales. Jace's biological grandmother. "Jonathan, is that you?"

"Yes." Jace's voice is rough. He glances at me.

"Do you claim your title as Prince Jonathan of Spain?" Imogen speaks loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room.

Jace repeats his answer. "Yes."

"Imogen," says my mother. Her eyes flicker to mine, and then back to the queen of Spain. "Do you approve this marriage for your grandson? Is this what you want for him?"

Imogen says, "No."

And this is what I realise—it's the _plan_. We can't get married if Jace's family does not wish it. I suppress my smile.

"Well, there we have it." Magnus is no doubt smiling. "You know the rules, King Valentine. Jace's last living biological relative claims him, and he claims his title, and his grandmother refuses the marriage."

"I will find a husband for my daughter." Valentine's tone is void of all the hostility I can sense radiating off of him. "You, my dear wife, have no say in that. If a prince or princess has a father, then the father is solely allowed to choose a spouse."

"But you aren't her father." Jocelyn declares.

Even I gasp.

"Twenty years ago, I hired a scholar to teach my infant son as he grew. That scholar was Lucian Graymark. I fell in love with him—and we had an affair." my mother twists her hands together, glancing at me worriedly every few seconds. "And when I became pregnant, I kept the baby's father a secret. Thankfully, she was a spitting image of me when she was born."

_She._

"Clary's father is Lucian Graymark." Jocelyn stares at me. "Not Valentine."

"You have no proof." Valentine snarls.

The wolf growls at Valentine, and then seconds later I'm staring at the familiar face of Luke.

I turn to look at the king, whose face has gone slack. "You..." his voice falters. "You're supposed to be _dead."_

"Yeah." Luke stretches his arms. "Funny how that didn't work out."

"Adultery is a crime punishable by death in this country." Valentine hisses. He's still holding onto my nephew, and I see Jonathan itching to reach for the baby. I glare at my brother. _Not yet. _I warn with my eyes. _Just wait. _"Guards—seize her."

But it's no secret that Jocelyn is the favoured royal in the country. No guard moves. I watch as Valentine's eyes grow wide. He's losing. He's going to lose.

"Fine." the king composes himself and his eyes narrow. "If you won't do it, then I'll have to do it myself."

Magnus snaps his fingers. "Good luck trying, _Your Majesty."_

Magnus has put a shield over my mother.

Valentine's cornered. "There's no way you can win this." I call to him, my eyes narrowed. "You won't be ruling over any country for a long time, Valentine. We've won. It's over."

But he glances down at the baby in his arms and Mary releases a sob, which only makes the king grin. "Not quite," he says, and then he pulls a knife.

"_No!" _Jonathan lunges, but Isabelle grabs the back of his shirt and holds him back. Even the princess of England is crying, but her grip on my brother is tight.

"You're going to let me escape." Valentine's voice is deadly quiet, but it echoes around the room. "You're going to forget I was ever here. Or I kill this baby."

Nobody moves.

Valentine's grin widens. "Good choice." he lets the knife drop on the floor. "But you're not seriously _stupid _enough to think I wouldn't provide you with a distraction so I can get away?"

He throws the baby into the air.

The room explodes into chaos. Mary screams, and Isabelle lets go of Jonathan. Some of the guests have already run out of the room. Everything is happening so fast.

And yet it's happening very slowly. I'm frozen where I stand, watching as the baby slows down in the air. Any moment now, he will start to fall. Jace is rigid beside me.

But the baby doesn't fall into Jonathan's arms. Jonathan is inches from where his son lands.

The baby is caught by Max.

Immediately, I let myself breathe again. The whole room relaxes, and while Jonathan lifts his son from the young prince's arms, Isabelle throws herself at her younger brother. The baby is safe. My mother is safe. We are all safe. But—

"Valentine." I grip Jace's sleeve. Jace's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "He got away. We didn't win. He'll come back."

"Not quite." Magnus grins widely at me as he removes the hat off his head and the robes covering his normal warlock clothes. "If you look over at the exit Valentine was aiming for, you'll find a body with an arrow through it."

"An arrow?" I frown.

Jace exhales. "_Alec."_

"You didn't think it was strange that your brother was nowhere?" Magnus laughs. "He was hiding behind the curtain the entire time, in case Valentine tried to escape."

"How did you know he was going to escape through that exit?" I ask him.

Magnus laughs even harder. "I didn't."

"So it's over." Jace turns to me. "We really did win."

"Yeah." I allow myself to grin. "We did."

* * *

The set up for what was supposed to be the reception is just a celebratory party. Mary, Jonathan, and their son (who they named Elijah) sit in a corner together, happy as can be. Until I'm a mother, I don't think I'll ever be able to fathom the pain Mary and Jonathan went through until they had their child back safely in their arms. And even then I don't think I'll be able to.

Isabelle and Max reunited with Alec, and Alec had a surprise of his own to reveal: He was staying home for good. And what was even better was that King Robert was going to make sure Alec could rule with Magnus by his side.

My mother stands with Luke, and they're holding hands. Most of our kingdom is happy for them—and they're to be married as well, in about a month's time or so. The fact that Luke is my father is something that I will never be able to grasp—but I'm glad that he is. To me, he's always been more of a father than Valentine ever was.

Valentine's body was removed from the room the minute the chaos was over. He will not receive an honourable funeral; they plan to burn his body and scatter the ashes—a symbol of good conquering evil. I loved him, even though he was not who I thought he was; and as much as I hate to admit it, I will definitely miss him. I just wish he hadn't been corrupted.

"You look different." Simon observes as he joins me. We stand alone—I don't know where Jace went off to.

"I don't see how." I raise my eyebrows at him. "I'm still the same me. I haven't grown."

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean. You just...you seem older. Like maybe you aren't so tiny anymore. Whatever happened when you left to rescue Alec changed you."

"I suppose it did." I say softly. All I can think about is Jace with me, on the trip, and how grateful I was—and still am—that he allowed me to come with.

"You fell in love," he guesses. When I look at him, there's no jealousy or pain. I always knew Simon had fancied me, and it hurt when I knew I didn't feel the same. And now...I don't feel bad anymore.

"I fell in love." I agree, biting down on my lip.

"Well, as long as Jace lets me stay your best friend, I'm incredibly happy for you." my best friend pulls me in for a hug. "I really am."

"Thank you, Simon." I shut my eyes, wrapping my arms around him. "It means a lot."

"Anything for my best friend." the words are genuine.

Simon finally pulls away, and gives me a smile. "I'll be right back, okay? I think I'd like to go meet your nephew. After all, I'm basically his uncle." he leaves me as I laugh, and I watch as he greets Jonathan and Mary.

"Clary." Isabelle speaks from beside me. With a smile, she takes my hands. "I told you we would win."

"That you did." I agree. Her smile widens. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

"Keep that in mind in the future." Isabelle winks at me.

"Hey—can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"The Silent Brothers." I frown at her. "They showed each of us a truth. Mine was my father's plan. Jace's was that he's a Herondale. And Max's was why Magnus took Alec. What was yours?"

Isabelle's cheeks flush. "Well, mine didn't have anything to do with anything helpful."

"Isabelle." I roll my eyes. "Come on—what was it?"

She sighs. "Fine. You see that boy over there?" Isabelle points to where Simon is crouching next to Mary, smiling at my giggling nephew. "Brother Zachariah told me I'm going to marry him."

I nearly choke. "_Simon?"_

Isabelle blinks. "You know him?"

"He's my best friend!" I glance quickly between Isabelle and Simon. "I can introduce you two, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she bites her lip. "He's actually pretty cute. I'm not going to mess with fate."

I laugh. "Of course I will. Come on. He'll probably faint when he sees you, but that's just Simon."

"Oh, lovely." Isabelle groans, and I only laugh again.

* * *

**Jace**

"So you're a Herondale." Alec muses.

I've never been one for parties. So the minute this one started, I sat outside of the castle on the steps and let myself think. It's a wonder Alec found me out here. "Yeah." I glance at him. "I guess so."

"You know you'll be ruling Spain." he nudges my shoulder. "We're definitely going to be allied countries."

"I wasn't aware." I say dryly, and he laughs.

"Why are you even out here?" the humour in his tone is gone, and it's replaced with worry. "Clary's in there all alone. She probably wants to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk."

"Jace, don't be like that."

"Don't be like what?"

"Be like you."

He's got a point there. I sigh heavily and lean back, pressing my hands against the cool concrete of the steps.

"Are you afraid?" Alec asks softly.

"I don't know." I answer. It's the truth.

"There's nothing to be afraid _of_." he reminds me. "We defeated Valentine. You've got a kingdom to rule. And you've even got a queen to rule with."

"Clary and I didn't get married, Alec."

"But you can." Alec points out. "Do you see the way she looks at you? It's like the way Mom looks at Dad, or how Queen Jocelyn looks at Luke. She loves you."

It's sentimental and all, and I'm about to respond with something that is probably totally out of my character, until I realise who I'm talking to and I snort. "Since when did _you _get all wise and stuff?"

"I think it's a gay thing." Alec frowns, and this time we lean against each other as we laugh like there's no tomorrow.

That's one thing I'll miss. Alec. I'll miss all of the Lightwoods—Isabelle and her complaining about fashion; Max and his obsession with fighting because he wants to be just like Alec and I when he gets older; and Alec and his sarcastic humour. I'll even miss Robert and Maryse bickering over stupid things.

After our laughter dies down, Alec stands. "I should probably get back to Magnus," he tells me. "But this isn't goodbye. Don't think I'll let you get away that easily."

"It shouldn't be that hard for you to find me." I promise.

"You're right." the side of Alec's mouth quirks up. "I'll use my gaydar. It helps me find cute guys."

I blink. "Okay. That's gross."

"What? I'm not allowed to make those kinds of gay jokes? You're not my brother, after all." Alec grumbles. "You're _so _no fun, Jace Herondale."

"Oh, just get back to the warlock already." I complain, but we both know I'm kidding. I even give him a hug before Alec disappears back into the castle.

"So you're going to Spain?"

Clary's voice is behind me. When I turn, she's standing on the steps where I was just sitting, her hair tied back. She's still in the wedding dress that Valentine made her wear. "How does everyone keep finding me?" I mock-groan.

The side of her mouth quirks up in a smirk. "It's my castle, Herondale-Lightwood."

"You're one to talk." I retort, referring to my nickname. "Turns out you've got two last names too, Morgenstern-Graymark."

Clary sighs. "Yeah. I guess so."

I frown. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a new thing." she corrects. "It's a...it's a good thing."

I smile.

"Hey." she grumbles, glaring at me. "You made me get off topic."

"Did I?" I feign surprise.

"Don't be smart with me." Clary puts her hands on her hips. "Are you going to Spain? Are you going to rule there?"

"Imogen is stepping down from the throne, and I am taking her place, yes." I admit. Her face falls.

"Well, um, I wish you luck, then." she looks down at her feet, and with a pang in my chest I realise that she doesn't think I have any intention of taking her with me.

"Clary." I say softly, and take a step toward her. Her head shoots up when I say her name, and her green eyes are full of tears. "Do you remember what you said to me before we got here two days ago?"

"I said a lot of things to you before two days ago, Jace." she sniffs. A tear falls from the corner of her eye and I reach up, wiping it off with my thumb.

"One _specific_ thing, though." I don't move my hand; it's cupping the left side of her face. She's inches shorter than me, so she half-glares up at me. "I asked you if you would marry me of your own accord."

Her voice is small. "Oh."

"And do you remember what you told me?" I whisper to her.

"Yes." she breathes. Her eyes flicker between mine and my lips as I inch closer.

"What did you tell me?"

"I just said it, stupid."

At this, I laugh, and so does she. "So why would you think I wouldn't take you with me?" I ask her gently.

Clary shrugs lightly. "I don't know." she admits. "There are—there are plenty of girls prettier than I am, definitely in Spain, and you could have _any _of them, if you wanted."

"That's true." I bring my left hand up to cup the other side of her face. "I could have any other girl if I wanted."

She inhales sharply.

"But I don't want them." I murmur. "I want _you."_

And then I kiss her.

* * *

**That was literally the longest chapter I've ever written in my entire life. Over four thousand words. Wow.**

**And I know I might have said earlier that this would not be the last chapter, but this one is. I like where I ended with it. It's an open ending for each and every couple, so you can let their futures run wild with your imagination. Thanks so much for reading this story with me, all. Much love. X**


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